


What If This Storm Ends

by artilleryflowers



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Kylo Ren x Rey - Freeform, M/M, Reylo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artilleryflowers/pseuds/artilleryflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is brutal and soft and he is brutal and burning and they fit entirely perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She wants to kill him. She can’t deny this. Her muscles ache and her throat feels raw. She feels the thrum of her weapon in her hands. She wants to throw it far from her, but it isn’t hers to throw. 

-

He lies in the snow, chest heaving. He wants her to kill him. He wants to feel his chest burn and his lungs die. He coughs and his ears ring. Black fringes his vision. He sees the blue light retract and he collapses onto his back, gasping. He sees her small frame in front of him, wavering as if she’s in the heat of the desert. He closes his eyes. Failure. 

\- 

She kneels beside him, fearing to touch him. She throws his lightsaber away from him and she’s afraid it will burn her even though she knows it won’t. She hears the moaning of the earth as it rips apart at its frozen seams. Rey bites her lip and tries to heave him up. She won’t leave him; she is not a murderer that way. He’s so heavy that her knees quiver so she uses the Force, carries him over one shoulder and then, when she comes to him, clasps Finn to her other. The earth continues to shudder and she pushes herself forward, feeling sweat bead at her temples and drip down her face. The Millennium Falcon is in sight and she goes on. Though it’s freezing, she doesn’t think she’s ever been this hot before, not even on Jakku.   
Chewie rushes out and grabs Finn. The earth yawns just behind Rey and she loses her footing, but Chewie grabs her shoulder and all but throws her and the weight on her shoulder on board.   
She lays out on her back on the cold metal floors, gulping air, feeling her guts twist when they reach lightspeed. Kylo Ren lies still, only a few feet from her, his robes still smoking. 

-

When he wakes, he can’t feel his face. Paranoia drills itself into his temples and his thoughts scatter. He can’t move and his side burns like nothing he has felt in a long time. He tries to use the Force to break his bonds, but his body is too weak. Or his mind. Or both.   
His breathing becomes erratic. He’s been captured. Maybe he’s dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Her eyes are so tired that they droop. She’s been in the makeshift med bay for so long she can’t remember if it’s been days or hours or weeks. Poe is asleep in the chair beside her. Her ears prick up, however, when she hears Finn groan. He turns and blinks rapidly, his face screwing into a humorous scowl. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so glad to be blinded,” he says, a half-smile erupting onto his face. Rey can’t stop smiling. She hadn’t even noticed Poe’s awakening. 

Poe reaches over to Finn and squeezes his hand. He blinks back a few tears. “Glad you’re back in business.” 

Finn looks much better awake than he did asleep and this comforts Rey and Poe the same. Poe rests his head on Finn’s stomach and Finn smiles again. _He must be so medicated that he feels nothing_ , Rey thinks dryly. She understands it’s Poe’s time now and she takes her leave with a quiet goodbye and a kiss on Finn’s forehead. Poe waves goodbye gratefully, gives her his thanks, and closes his eyes, tears still sparkling. 

Rey wanders the various hallways of the Falcon. They landed briefly, only to let the others know what happened and that they are indeed alive. Chewie was marinating in his own grief, refusing to land the vehicle, Han’s vehicle. It feels so strange to Rey, how removed they all are. She thinks of Kylo Ren. 

She visited him a few times, like a ghost haunting his bedside, hovering and silent. She senses him suddenly, as if some switch has been turned on in her head. In long, quiet bounds she makes her way to his isolated room, locked and barred like no cell she’s ever seen before. But then again, Han Solo was a strange man, ready for anything. 

She hears him struggling as she enters the room, his choking and gasping. And she feels his fear. She wants it to warm her, but it doesn’t. She feels wrong for thinking this way.

He freezes when he senses her there, though his breathing is still uncontrolled. His face is covered in a bacta pad, probably due for removal. She leans over him and removes the bandage and his eyes are wild. His face was scarred only lightly, but it was still there. She can’t help herself when her fingers drift over it, almost in disbelief that this scar is her doing. He all but stops breathing now, and she finally meets his eyes. 

 

-

 

When she removed his bandages, the feeling returned to his face in waves. It felt like fire, but he didn’t make a sound. When her fingers brush over his cheeks, over that scar, everything stops. He can’t breathe. Her eyes are like pools of still water, glowing. 

 

\-   

 

Rey knows what she’s doing is stupid but she can’t stop herself. She loosens the bonds around his wrists and steps away from him. They are both unarmed in a dark room with no sound but their breathing. It feels surreal to her. He doesn’t rise from his place on the cot. For a moment, she thinks it is because he’s in shock, but then she remembers how injured he is. She walks back to his side again. His eyes are so dark and sad. She feels her throat constrict; he is choking her.


	3. Chapter 3

Kylo Ren can’t resist it. He doesn’t want to kill her but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He buries it. He hears the last of the air escape her lungs and he lets her go. She collapses into him and he hisses, his side burning. She tumbles back onto the floor, unmoving. She’s alive, he feels it, but she’s unconscious. He wants to think he could escape now, but he knows he can’t. 

He looks at Rey’s body on the floor beside him, her face whiter than snow, the blue veins in her temples standing out like little rivers. He watches her, his own hands feeling disgusting. He feels filthy. He can’t stand it for a moment longer. 

He heaves himself up, swallowing a scream. He leans down, and grabs her shoulders, dragging her onto the cot beside him, his body screaming in pain all the while. His vision blackens and he falls backward.

His mind dances with thoughts of her. Even in his dreams, he can’t place his feelings. They burn him and he doesn’t want to put them out. 

 

-

 

When Rey wakes, she has a headache but the room is dark and heated so she’s happy. She is tempted to go back to sleep but she feels a presence she can’t shake. She rolls over and feels the form of someone else beside her, warm and firm. 

It is Kylo Ren.

 

-

 

He can feel her shifting and stirring and stretching and sighing. He wants to wake up and look her in the eyes, and not have to say a word, but he doesn’t. He waits for her to leave, for her to kill him, for her to cry.

She does none of these things.

 

\- 

 

She settles back down, remembering all that happened before this. She remembers him strangling her, the fear in his eyes. She hears him mumbling in his sleep, his brow furrowed. She wonders what he’s thinking.

Rey hesitates, but she gathers her focus and enters his mind. She finds so many twists and turns. There is so much confusion and so much pain. She sees him dying, covered in blood and beating his own wounds, his face twisted in agony and rage and sadness. Rey sees herself beside him, his head in her lap, her voice in his ears, but she doesn’t understand what she’s saying to him. She sees him dying in her arms. She sees him holding her and protecting her from something she can’t see. 

She jerks away from him, back to the present, her mind aching and her body buzzing. She looks down at him again, his long, beautiful face. His eyes are closed tightly and his dark hair sticks to his forehead in sweat. She can sense he’s in pain and she feels a deep need to take it away. In the pit of her stomach she feels something stir. She lies down again, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He smells clean and metallic. She feels his pulse against her lips, slow and heavy and she sleeps.

 

\- 

 

His body trembles. He feels her hand on his chest, tucked beneath his vest, and her tiny breaths on his collarbone. He feels his heart hammering in his chest, pounding against her tiny fingers. He can’t move. He doesn’t want to. He feels so lost, as if he’s sinking and there is no way to the surface except by her hand. He can’t bear it any more and he reaches for her, pulling her tighter. He feels something shift within her and he knows she’s awake. He wants to die. 

 

-

 

She reaches up, her hands coming to rest on his face. His eyes are pointedly closed and she knows he’s awake. She runs her fingers along his cheeks, around his eyes and along the fine bridge of his nose. She settles on his lips, full and boyish, before moving back to his cheek, warm and soft. She feels a wetness, and she sees tears leaking from his eyes. She wipes them away. 

Her thoughts are muddled and confused but deeper than even her mind, she feels balanced. She feels an equality, a weight that has shifted inwardly. This feels right. He feels right to her, her body tucked against his. His eyes flutter open, and suddenly, as if a wall has broken, a sob rushes forward and his tears do not stop. He tries so hard to speak, and nothing makes sense. She shushes him. She feels his anger swell. _He is ashamed_. 

“Kylo,” she whispers. “Kylo Ren.”


	4. Chapter 4

His vision is blurred and he wants to tear his own fucking eyes out. He is so angry at himself. He should have killed her. He should have killed her twice, but here she is, pressed to his side, wiping his tears away as if he is weak, and she says his name so softly. 

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is a bite, and he sees Rey’s face disintegrate. She sits up, crosslegged. She studies him and he feels naked. He wants to hide from her, from her stare that is a knife. He wants to hide his bare face again, be able to hide from everyone. _I am not a man_ , he thinks. _I am not a man._

He knows this isn’t true. He knows she is strong in the Force and he knows she can sense his everything. His breaths, his thoughts, his feelings, his heartbeat. She knows him from the inside out, his rotten guts and his fury.

He knows he can read her too, and he tries again. Her thoughts are a storm, but she is settled within it, content. He knows she knows he is paging through her memories, and he knows she is letting him. 

He sees a desert rat, scrambling through dirt and sand only for a wire. He sees her bruises after someone beats her for a small find. He sees her waiting, looking at the stars, waiting forever. He goes on, drinking it in, drinking her in. He sees a face he doesn’t know, that Rey hardly knows anymore, that she will never see again, and somehow this reads _Mother_.

She pushes him out, her mouth open just slightly, sweat at her temples, her eyes glazed over. 

He can’t control himself. He feels himself rise, and when his side whines at him he beats it. His vision is spinning but he briefly sees Rey, speaking, but he can’t hear her. He attacks the wall, and he wants to destroy destroy destroy. He throws his fists at anything and everything. His side feels like someone has taken it and is ripping it apart. He raises his fists to throw them at himself again, needing to feel the pain, needing some sort of fuel to urge him forward. 

They never reach him.

 

-

 

Rey is strong, but when his enormous hands crack into his sides she can’t hold him back. She shouts at him, screams even, but he doesn’t seem to hear her. He is on a warpath, trying to destroy himself. When he lifts his fists to crush himself again, she throws herself at him. His knuckles connect with her back as she dives into him, pushing him down.

Everything is still. She pants and he shakes underneath her. 

“Stop,” she says, her tongue dry, as if it is covered in sandpaper. He swallows hard and looks at her with his deep, dark eyes. They hold structures she can’t imagine to have felt or seen before. They hold something she can’t even fathom. Their hardness melts at the sight of her face, and she sinks down, her forehead pressed to his collarbone. _He is so young_ , she thinks. _Like a child, throwing a temper tantrum_.

He shoves her away.

 

\- 

 

He can’t feel his own hands but when he looks at them they are swathed in blood and shreds of skin peel down his knuckles. His side, however, is like a wildfire. 

“You need to lie down.” 

“Shut up!” he howls. His entire body is pain. Everything hurts all at once. He needs her and he hates himself for it. They haven’t said anything to each other about anything at all, yet they’ve slept in the same bed together. 

She reaches and pulls lightly on his shoulders. He tenses. For a moment, he senses her fear, and he knows she means no harm. He eases and she pulls his head into her lap. He looks at her eyes, the gentle slope of her mouth, the freckles that dance around her cheeks. He closes his own.

“What are you doing?” he asks. He is neither scornful or hopeful. For once, his emotions aren’t spilling everywhere for her to see. 

She doesn’t answer at first and he feels something start to burn inside of him again, just below his ribcage. 

“I don’t know,” she answers, her voice honest. She sounds so young. “I can’t explain it. I’ve seen you, I know your mind and I know your feelings.”

“And I, yours.”

Again, she pauses. “I’ve seen your mind. I know you feel so strongly. I know you feel strongly for me.” He opens his mouth but she ignores it. “And I feel it too, only differently. You have been lost for so long, Ben.”

His hands twitch and he resists himself. He shivers. It’s so cold. 

“I am not lost,” he manages, though he knows she’s right. They are quiet for a long time before he speaks again. “I can feel it all the time. Its so bright.”

“You don’t have to give in to the anger,” she says. “Just as you don’t have to give into the light. Just find balance in yourself.” As if she realizes her own fraud, she quickly says, “Nevermind what I said.” She laughs softly. 

He’s never heard her laugh before. Its beautiful. 

“I want you.” He says it without even thinking, and he can’t stop. “I can’t hurt you. There is something in you I need.” He knows he sounds hungry, malicious even. He tries to fix it, stumbling over his own thoughts. “Help me.”

Nothing he says is right. 

 

\- 

 

She feels the confusion stirring inside of him, his mind a storm. “If I didn’t want to help you, I would have left you to die.” She doesn’t mean it vindictively. She eyes his wounds, his hands and his side and everything else. “I need to bandage you.”

His face sinks into apprehension. _He looks so childish_. She offers her hand and he takes it. With difficulty, they rise and she helps him to his cot. She retrieves the necessary supplies to attend to his wounds and sits down next to him. 

“When I was on Jakku, I would cut myself on the metal parts a lot, so I know what I’m doing, somewhat,” she says, beginning to focus on the task at hand. He nods.

“I didn’t doubt you.” His voice is smooth again, and the image of an angry young man in complete disarray and pain almost seems like someone else. When she reaches over to take off his heavy robes, and he stops her. “I can do it.”

He finally takes them off, and Rey knows it was a feat of much strength. When she sees the true extent of his wounds, she is shocked. Blood trickles out in rivulets, and the black undershirt he is wearing looks like an oil slick. 

“That too,” she says. She sees the dread on his face and she knows he doesn’t want to endure the pain again. When he lifts his arms again, she lowers them gently. She takes the scissors from the medical kit and just cuts it away, throwing it beside the pile of his robes. It makes a wet slapping sound and they both wince. He turns to her and scowls. 

“I needed that,” he grumbles.

“There isn’t only one in the world,” she says, tightening her lips. She lifts his arm and rests it on her shoulder, to keep it out of the way of her work. 

The wound is raw and it’s been ripped open more than it ever should have. She is amazed at how he can even stay awake. She puts a salve on it, and he swallows, and she knows it hurts him badly. She wraps him in bandages gently, round and round his torso and at last he settles. 

She pretends she didn’t see the deep, thick scars that twist around his body.

She urges him to lie down again and he listens. She says she’s going to retrieve another shirt but he takes her wrist.

“Don’t leave yet.” 

She nods and sits on the edge of the cot as he dozes off. He is beautiful. His body is lean and strong and his hair is soft. She can’t understand how she feels the way she does.

She only knows that for some reason, he cares very much for her and thinks of her and dreams of her and he needs her so badly and she isn’t sure about these things but she wants to tell herself that he loves her. She thinks it’s true. Ever since he first saw her, there was a flicker of something between them, something pure. Her life had always been dirty and gritty and old and the moment she saw his face mind something had stirred beneath her skin that was so clean and perfect. 

He is so young and lost and she doesn’t even know what to call him. His names don’t even fit him. She wants to protect him from himself. 

Though she knows he wants her to stay, she knows she’s been away from everyone for too long. She straps him down again, carefully and gently. Though she wants to, she can’t trust him. 


	5. Chapter 5

He remembers his starved nights back in his own room, so empty. He has never touched a girl before her. He remembers stifling his feelings before he even turned away from the light; Luke had always chastised him. _You’re too emotional_ , he would say, face serene, eyes balanced. _Love is a temptation. You must never give too much of yourself to it_. 

When Kylo was young, he thought that this would be easy. Uncle Luke had seemed so at peace with solitude, how could it be anything difficult? 

But when something inside of him grew hungry and left him feeling vacant, he knew he couldn’t turn away from it. Since he was a teenager, he’d known there would be somewhere inside of him never filled, something he would never be allowed to fill.

He feels like he’s at his own funeral, lying in a casket and he can’t rise. He is angry at Rey for tying him down again, though somewhere in his mind he finds reason. 

He can sense her, but he can’t read her. She’s too far from him. He knows no one else on this ship will show him any mercy, and he is afraid when he doesn’t know where she is. 

He stares at the ceiling. He wants a shower, he wants to sleep again, he wants to die. He wants her and he is unsure, as always, about whether or not she is with him. He closes his eyes and sighs. For once, he is powerless.

 

-

 

Rey sits in the pilot’s seat, Chewie beside her. He is angry with her for bringing Kylo Ren aboard and for giving him mercy, even though he knows it is his duty to bring him home. 

He asks where she’s been, asks about the bruises around her neck, and he knows all the answers. She doesn’t lie to him.

“Kylo Ren.” 

Chewie snorts. Rey scowls. 

“He is Han’s _son_.”

Chewie knows. He’d played with the dark-haired child and trained with him and protected him from everything in the world that would do him harm. He tossed him high in the air when he was a tiny little thing, against the many protests of his mother. He taught him to shoot a blaster “the right way”.

Rey senses the sadness in Chewie and decides she won’t hide anything from him. “I can change him, I know I can.”

He looks at her suspiciously, tells her he is a lost cause.

“He isn’t. I can show him the light, I can guide him,” she protests. “I promise you I can. I know it. I know there is good in him still.”

Chewie sits back and doesn’t say another word. She stands.

“I’m going to see him now,” she says. “I am going to prove you right.”

 

-

 

He hears her enter and close the door. It locks behind her and he is grateful. She sits on the edge of his cot again, carefully undoes his cuffs and carefully checks his bandages after he sits up. “I brought you a shirt.” She puts it at the end of the cot and looks back at him.

“Thank you,” he says, avoiding her gaze.

She smiles and again, he melts. He reaches up to her face. 

“Who am I?” he asks, eyes pleading. His voice is heavy with wanting. He sees her hesitate. His stomach churns. His face darkens and he tries so hard to stop himself but he can’t and he almost hurts her, almost. He turns his anger at himself and she stops him, pinning his hand behind his head. He flinches, but when he meets her fierce little face he can’t help himself. He reaches with his other hand and pulls her head to his chest. She releases his wrist.

“You are Ben Solo,” she answers. He tightens, folding himself inwardly. He pulls her tighter. 

“Am I now?” he asks, sarcastically. He hates how forged his voice sounds, how considerate of his own tone he sounds. He sounds like a liar.

“You always have been,” Rey murmurs, her breath warm on his bandaged chest. He feels her run her fingers over a deep scar just below his collarbone. He pretends it’s not there, that she is just admiring. He loves to be admired.

She sits up, almost eye level. For a moment she looks confused and he opens his mouth to ask, but he feels so warm. Her lips are on his and he can’t understand what is happening. He can’t even respond.

 

-

 

He is so _stiff_. His spine is rigid, his eyes are open and his muscles are taut. His breaths are choppy, he is shorting out, is electric overwhelmed. She reaches up to his face, clutching his cheeks as if they’re the last thing in her universe. His mouth is so warm, he smells like pheromones and leather and smoke. His teeth are so smooth and his lips are so soft and she can’t get enough of it. He lets out a soft sigh into her mouth and she tangles her fingers in his long hair. She feels his eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones as she moves to his neck and his breath is hot against her hair when he lets out a soft sigh. His hands move to her back, so gentle.

He is shy.


	6. Chapter 6

He can hardly stand it anymore, her softness and her heat and her breaths, but he refuses to pull her tighter to him. He is afraid to break her. He is afraid of his own hands. They nearly encircle her ribcage, and he feels too big. He closes his eyes and she stops kissing him, resting her head against his shoulder.

He feels so wanted. His chest feels frozen, and he shakes. 

“I don’t know how,” he blurts. He feels so stupid. He has never kissed a girl before. He doesn’t know how to touch her, or if he even should. He doesn’t understand anything in that moment. This is so human and pure to him and he can’t even recognize what his own body wants. 

She hushes him. He can tell she is bewildered. He reaches into her mind, and she lets him in.

She doesn’t know what to call him. She doesn’t know what to do with him. She doesn’t know how she feels toward him. She does know she wants him. She wants to hold him. She wants to be close to him. She wants to make him feel alright. She wants to take his anger away from him. There is something between them she can’t understand, something within their minds and the Force that will not let them part. 

He thinks the same and he doesn’t want to let her go either. 

“I think we are in love,” he says slowly. The word doesn’t fit right in his mouth. It feels too heavy.

She nods. “I do too.”

“I hardly know you,” he observes aloud. 

“This isn’t a mutual falling-in-love story,” she says brusquely. He feels his brow furrow in irritation. 

“Then what is it?” he demands impatiently. His tone doesn’t fit the scene, with her tucked in his arms, pressed against his bare chest. 

“It’s beyond us,” she says softly. “This is the Force.”

He snorts. “This is-”

“No, we’re just a part of this. We’re a part of something,” she insists. 

He knows some part of what she’s saying is right but he doesn’t want it to be that way. He’s always wanted his own free will. Everything he does and feels is _his_ , nothing more. He wants to believe this and he tries to. 

 

-

 

He smells like sweat and his wounds reek. She looks up at him. “You need to shower.”

He glowers at her, and his cheeks flush. “Well I have been strapped down for nearly a week now.”

She smirks. “I will show you where to go.” She stands and he follows, cringing. She knows he hurts and she needs to change his bandages again. _Chewie got him badly_ , she thinks, half-satisfied, half-heartbroken. She leads him down the empty hallways, their footsteps echoing, and she leads him to the showers. He nods his thanks and when she reaches to remove his bandages, he shrugs her off. He closes the door in her face and she feels a flare of indignation. She wasn’t going to just leave him alone, she knew he was dangerous and she still couldn’t trust him. And she needed to shower too.

She lets herself into the room and undresses herself. She turns the shower on and feels a warm wash of water tumble down her tired back. Her muscles loosen and she opens her mouth, letting the water fill it. She washes her hair and runs her nails through her hair. She enjoys every second of this. Showering is something strange to her; Jakku was so dry that any water was practically sacred. 

When she finishes, she wraps herself in a towel, trying her best to dry herself. She dresses in her stall, happy that her clothes are still warm. His shower is still running, much to her satisfaction. He is a prissy boy and it humors her. 

But she is wrong. He is already out, his body bare before her. His muscles are carved of marble and he is beautiful. His back is laced in scars and bruises. He whips around, his face so shy and humiliated. She panics for a moment before jerking her gaze away from him. He says nothing, but she knows that he never wanted her to see him this way.


	7. Chapter 7

He doesn’t like to bare anything. He knows she saw his scars, a physical sign of his disgrace. Some part of him wants to choke her for making him feel this way, but he stamps it out. He quickly dries himself and dresses in his pants and the new shirt Rey brought to him. He feels so exposed, even with his clothes on. He misses his helmet. He misses the solitude and the protection it offered him. 

He quietly returns to his room, surprised Rey hasn’t waited for him. He doesn’t try to fight or escape or run. He settles into his bed, waiting for her inevitable return to fix his bandages. 

It takes a long time. In fact, he isn’t sure if she even returned that day or the next. But when she does, she looks at him differently. He hates it. His wound has stuck to his shirt, wet with serum and blood. He had been too stubborn to do it himself. 

The air around them is so heavy and he can feel the terror radiating off of her. 

 

-

 

Her fear is like smoke; it hangs onto her so obviously. His laughter only unnerves her more. Her hands are shaking when she comes closer to him. There is no authority in her voice when she orders him to remove his shirt. 

Despite this, he does as she says. She cleans his wounds, ensuring that he cringes at least twice. She knows he notices, but he doesn’t say anything. She can’t meet his eyes. 

She finally pins the end of the wrappings down and sits back with a sigh. His eyes pierce through her, she can feel them. The urge to punch him right in his big nose comes over her but she refrains. He tilts her head up to look him in the eyes. 

“It was nothing.” His voice is marble. 

She nods though she doesn’t believe him. His face dims but he doesn’t say anything to convince her.

She takes his hand and he presses it to his chest. She can feel his heartbeat again. It reminds her she is dealing with nothing more than a man. 

“Your wound will never heal if you keep this up,” she mumbles. 

 

-

 

He smiles to himself. He is doing it somewhat on purpose. He likes the feeling of her fingers dancing around his chest as she bandages him. But he knows he will heal someday, and he will have to use something else to keep her coming back to him. 

She nudges closer to him. Her fear is still obnoxiously conspicuous. 

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice is hollow. 

“You strangled me only a few days ago.” The reminder sends him reeling. He doesn’t know if he wants to punch her in her sour little mouth or punch himself. He bites his cheek instead. “You might say that but you don’t mean it.”

He can’t tell if she knows she’s fanning the flame. He doesn’t suspect she’s so stupid. Maybe she wants him to fight with her. Maybe she’s testing him. Either way, he doesn’t like it. 

She stands up and before he can react, she has one of his hands clipped down.

 

-

 

His face looks so abused, so shocked, so injured. She shakes it off. 

“I can’t trust you yet,” she says quietly, fastening the other shackle with leaden fingers. She knows he didn’t do anything in all the time she’d left him unfastened after the incident in the showers, so she isn’t sure why she’s saying what she is. 

He doesn’t try to struggle against her and she hates it. 

“I’ll be back soon,” she mutters.

“Why are you leaving?”

“I just need some space.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking me questions.”

“Why are you so afraid?”

She frowns and takes a moment before answering. “I’m not.” 

“You’re lying, Rey.” 

She can hardly stand her name on his tongue. “Be quiet, Ben Solo.”

 

-

 

The sound of her stomping feet left him feeling satisfied. However, _that_ name on _her_ tongue makes his skin crawl. He wants to make her unafraid again. 

_But it was._

_Shut up_

_It was something. She should have left you alone._

_Shut up_

_She shouldn’t have seen you, those scars are pathetic._

_Shut up_

_A Knight of Ren, captured by a little girl with some sensitivity to the Force. You are pathetic. You should have killed her by now._

_No_

_You should have killed her in the snow and left her to rot._

“No,” he whispers.

He pleads with himself for hours this way, but nothing comes to him, only more suffering.

 

-

 

Twirling around in the cockpit seats has served as a poor distraction. She’s sensed a difference in the Force for several hours now. She fidgets with a few gadgets, bites her fingernails, taps her fingers, twirls some more. Repeat. 

Finally she throws herself from the seat. She practically breaks the door down when she gets there. He looks so sick. She hates the way she runs to his side. She hates how quickly she undoes his restraints. 

“What’s wrong?” Her fingers flicker around his face, feeling for heat.

He doesn’t even sit up. He just lies there, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. She shakes him. 

“Kylo.” 

He is so focused on something and she is so scared for him.

“Kylo. Answer me.”

She straddles him, stares him right in the eyes, her forehead touching his, his breaths cold against her lips. 

“Ben Solo.”

He stares through her, past her, at some unknown thing. She can feel tears flooding her eyes and she doesn’t understand why.

“Please stop now,” she pleads, sinking into his shoulder. He smells so good and she feels those tears dripping down her nose.

She feels his shaking hands wrap around her and she hears his breaths rattle from him. 

She is too afraid to look into his head, so she just presses kisses to his neck, over and over and over. He doesn’t stop shaking and he doesn’t move his gaze. Finally she stops, a breath exiting her body and leaving her feeling heavier than she’s ever felt before. 

He lets out his own breath, and he closes his eyes. She sits up to look at his face, and he looks as if something has struck him hard. She shakes him and his soft brown eyes meet hers. 

“R-Rey,” he stutters. 

A sob tears through her lips when she tries to respond.

“How long have you been h-here?” He can hardly get the words out. 

She sinks down to his chest again and she feels her whole body collapse when he tightens his grip on her. 

She’s crying so hard and she is so unfamiliar. She hasn’t cried this way in so long. She cries until everything aches and she can’t resist sleep anymore. The darkness feels so good when she slips into it.

-

 

He can’t imagine how this has happened. He is hyperaware of the tears on his neck which have left his skin salty and sticky. He wants to scream but instead he holds her head to his shoulder, sitting up swiftly, hoping it won’t hurt as badly if he does it quickly enough. He rocks her back and forth like she’s a child and he imagines that everything that has happened between them is a dream and he is still in his cold room with his helmet resting on the table beside his bed.

“Rey, desert rat.”

He pauses. 

“Little thing.”

She sleeps hard.

“I can’t sleep,” he says. “I can’t be alone anymore. I can’t be alone. Don’t leave me alone anymore Rey.”

He can feel his voice rising in panic so he stops talking. He touches her face to make sure she’s real. She is and he isn’t sure if this is a comfort or not.

She wiggles in his arms and lets out a sleepy sigh, one that shudders. He smiles at her painfully. “You _are_ a little thing.”

He smiles wider.

“Always, always. It will always be this way.”

She stirs and he freezes. She blinks her wide drowsy eyes at him. “Kylo.”

He shushes her, almost too roughly. 

“You are good,” she says sleepily. 

He makes no movement, no indication, no acknowledgment.

“Otherwise you wouldn’t be this way.”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me how I am and how I am not. Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me?” he asks, his voice quiet and his eyes heavy.

“How many times are you going to ask this?” she groans.

“As many as it takes for an answer,” he replies. 

“I don’t have one.” She sounds so snotty, so insolent. He doesn’t like it at all and he lets her know by dumping her onto the cot and standing up. 

He takes off his bandages and puts his shirt back on. His wound looks better and he both appreciates and hates it. 

“It will heal this way now,” he states. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “Have fun with an ugly scar.”

He feels as if she has kicked him in the ribs. He knows she didn’t say it purposefully but it lights him on fire. He stalks over to her and puts his hands around her neck. The fear in her eyes is delicious, but some part of him tells him to stop. He doesn’t even really recognize when his fist clenches down on her neck. It isn’t hard enough to kill her, but it does remind her that he can. 

Those same hands dance from her throat to her face, full of worry and shock. Guilt crawls into him and he hates it. He misses his mercilessness.

It takes him a moment for him to realize he had never been merciless with her. And part of him knows he never would be. 


	8. Chapter 8

Rey tries to scream at him but her throat is cinched shut. She doesn’t bother to chain him down, he can run if he wants. He can die if he chooses. She lifts her fist at him but she won’t strike him. 

“I don’t want this,” she says. Her words are a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. 

He instantly looks so lost. His hands grasp for her. “No.”

She wrenches out of his grip and stumbles away from him. “You.”

She sits down outside the door and begins to cry. She feels strong. She will not walk into that room again. The droids can bring him food and they can dress his wounds. They can comfort him.

She goes to sit in the cockpit and look out at the endless universe before her. She has always wanted freedom and now it is hers to adore and admire.

 

-

 

He finds himself smashing everything in his room, tearing the cot apart and flinging himself at walls. Nothing _looks_ destroyed. It brightens the fury in his chest. He wishes for his lightsaber. He wants to leave evidence of his wrath. He wants to be feared. 

He wants to be feared but not by her. 

He hates her. 

He wants to crush her.

This thought brightens the fear in him. He doesn’t want to crush her. He wants to _protect_ her.

He crumples against the wall. He knows he could leave but for some reason he doesn’t. 

 

 

-

 

Rey is in awe at the stars before her, the planets, everything. It is all so beautiful. 

She almost forgets about him. 

She is convinced she would have forgotten about him if his incessant, loud waves weren’t disturbing everything about her. 

She is bitter. How dare he disturb her peace?

_How dare you let him?_

She ignores her own mind and storms back to the door she’s come and gone from far too many times in the last week or so.

The fact that everything is quiet elicits fear in her. She thinks about turning around but those horrible twists in the Force were almost paining her. 

The door opens seamlessly. He is sitting against the wall, hands bleeding, hair mussed. She sits down in front of him. He doesn’t look at her. It would humor her if she weren’t so angered by it. 

She expects a taunt from him but instead his voice is soft. “Don’t come back here anymore.”

She tilts her head and squints at him.

“Why are you here now?” He finally fixes his eyes on hers. They are cold.

She was drawn here by something she can’t resist. She can’t answer his question.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says. His voice is so full of feeling, he is earnest. “I can’t stop myself.”

“You’re full of shit.”

He glares at her. “I am not as full of light as you thought now, isn’t that true?”

She stops at this comment and glares right back. She would say something stupid but her throat hurts so much. 

“I’ve read through your mind. You will not be leaving me and I will not be leaving you.” 

She nods sadly. She is in a box with no lid and its so dark and she can’t escape it. 

He reaches for her and she scoots away from him. He ignores this and he pursues her, pinning her down, smiling at her. He presses his mouth to hers roughly and it is so sloppy and Rey wonders if this is how kisses should be and she kisses him back and it is full of sparks and warmth. Her hands wrap around his back and she feels his muscles twitching and trembling and she loves it. She presses harder against his mouth and he draws away so quickly her head slams against the hard floor. 

 

-

 

He doesn’t know how to kiss. He thinks she can tell but he pretends to himself that she doesn’t. He likes the way her hands move along his back. He loves the way she presses against his lips so fiercely. He loves the smell of her skin and the way she flows with him and against him. He loves _her_. And that instant, he pulls away from her, hearing her head thunk against the floor.

He leans down to her and rests his forehead against hers, so lightly and so fleetingly. She is hesitating. He looks at her face, memorizing all of it.

“I love you.”

He breathes out, as if some heavy weight has been lifted away from him and he can feel the world as it should be again.

She doesn’t answer. She only smiles. He finds himself flipped on his back without even noticing how it happened, his side shouting at him. Rey pins his arms behind his head and she kisses him briefly and softly. 

“No you don’t.” Her voice is hoarse and her words sting.

His only true awareness of his own feelings, shot back at him, meant to hurt him.

He nods at her. “I do. I feel it. I love you. I love you. _I love you_.”

He knows his voice is getting louder and she shushes him. She rolls off of him and nestles into his side, their backs on the cold floor and their eyes focused on the ceiling. 

“I do,” he murmurs. 

She nods back at him, giving him no response. 

He clings to this feeling and he won’t let her take it from him. It is his. And she will know it. 


	9. Chapter 9

His words are a plague in her head. 

She loves him too. She’s felt it since he took his mask off and became human. Their attachment is not hers to control, the universe is pushing her. She isn’t sure if the feelings are hers or those created by the Force. She wants to say they are the Force and the Force alone, but she knows somewhere inside of her that it isn’t true. 

“You love like you know what the feeling is,” she whispers.

“I do,” he presses, his voice dark.

“You’ve been lonely forever,” she says, her voice almost imperceptible.

He turns to her, his eyes hard. “I am not lonely. I have never been lonely.” 

She nods at him. She won’t let him know his facade is so easy to see through. The great Kylo Ren was lonely when he pressed into her mind the very first time and he had been lonely years before that. She loves his pretending. She wants to hold him and kiss him and make him admit his lie. 

She does. She kisses him, slipping into it with grace this time. They have a rhythm now, soft and flowing. He is sloppy still; he doesn’t know what to do with himself. She doesn’t know when to react, how to react, if she should react. It is so awkward but it isn’t forced. It feels like heaven. 

He flips her underneath him and she smiles against his lips. Her own moves, learned and used so quickly. He kisses her harder and leans back from her, looking her over, admiring. His gaze is hungry. It makes her warm in places she is unfamiliar with. 

He kisses her in the soft spots of her neck, nipping and Rey sighs softly. His hands are so big and they find a place on her hips, gripping them like they’re the raft in the storm. He kisses her again, brutal against her lips, drawing out a soft moan. He drinks it in and clasps her tighter.

Rey is dizzy. She is unable to process everything at once but she presses harder against him, biting his lower lip and running her tongue along the sharpness of his teeth. He draws away from her and the shine of his eyes changes to something different, darker. He tears her clothes away from her before she can even understand. He is too scared to touch her for a moment, his hands resting on either side of her, his eyes filling with something different. He’s almost asking for permission. She kisses him, softly, trying to give him permission the best she can. When he returns his hands to her trembling body, his hold is light, afraid. He is shy suddenly. His hands wander up her sides and goosebumps rise. Her hands run through his hair and he shivers. 

His hands ghost over her breasts, brushing against her nipples, and she draws in a sharp breath. His eyes narrow and he kisses her breast. Without much hesitation, his tongue washes over her nipple and she arches her back. She feels a wave of heat tear through her body and she knows he senses it. She is afraid of him and he knows it.

 

-

 

She is so tiny beneath him, her little back arching with every bite and suck and touch. She is beautiful and he wants to destroy her. But he is so gentle. One of his hands traces her body, between her breasts to the warmth between her legs. Her skin is so tough and firm, brutalized by sand and heat and metal. He gently slides his fingers through her wetness, watching her intently to see what kindles her fire. He doesn’t know anything and he doesn’t like it. His wound is igniting again as he breathes harder and the pangs only make him want her more.

When he slips his fingers into her, her breath hitches. He notices she hurts and he hesitates. She shakes her head at him and he lays a soft kiss on her collarbone. He only wants to see her face as he listens to her shaky, heavenly breaths. He deprives himself, continuing to press crescent-moon bite marks into her soft skin. 

 

-

 

Rey loves his fingers, nimble and natural. He loves her and she feels it with every kiss he presses to her chest and every mark he leaves on her. When she comes, he presses himself down on her, enjoying her sweat and the smell of her skin. She knows he is ravenous but he doesn’t remove his clothes. She is so eager and she reaches for his shirt, pulling and tugging until it falls away somehow. He is so hesitant now, every move slow and frozen. She brings his face closer to his. He looks her in the eyes but it reveals nothing. She reaches up, touches his back. The heavy scarring there brings a sensitivity in him and he shrinks away from her. 

“Don’t.” His voice is so husky and low, but he is so urgent.

“Why?” she breathes. She feels him shiver with wanting.

He doesn’t answer her question and kisses her roughly, biting hard enough to draw blood. She tugs at his pants and an uncertainty washes over him. She kisses him gently on his collarbone, leaving a smudge of blood that makes her insides flicker again.

He lets her take the remaining clothes from his frame and then he starts to shake. She kisses him softly everywhere, hoping to quiet his shivering. 

“Don’t look at me,” he whispers. 

She nods at him and kisses him again, tangling her fingers in his hair. 

He presses his hips against hers and she lets out a soft moan. “Kylo Ren-” she starts. 

“That is not my name,” he hisses, ducking his head down. He kisses her fiercely. She has no name for her lover and it distresses her. 

When he slides into her, she kisses him to prevent herself from screaming. Tears streak down her face and she tries to wish them away. He pauses, afraid, touching her everywhere. He tries to be gentle with her. More tears leak out from her eyes but she doesn’t say a word, only kisses him.

All thoughts of him and his name disappear. It hurts so intensely, but his kisses are so soft she can’t help but enjoy it all. Not too soon after, everything feels like electric. She moans and whimpers and he hushes her, kissing her so gently it frustrates her. She urges him to kiss her harder and he does and he swallows her scream when she comes and he murmurs and whispers and kisses her name until he does too, pulling out and coming over everything. He collapses onto her, breathing so heavily its almost suffocating, She kisses his shoulders and he falls even further into her, something she didn’t understand to be possible. 

She feels wet everywhere and she loves it. She loves his breathing, his scent, his softness. She loves his kisses and his pulse, currently slamming against his ribs much more quickly than she would have thought possible. 

Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. Nameless.


	10. Chapter 10

Rey runs her fingers along his back, feeling the valleys and mountains of scars. He is tight and afraid above her, and his breathing betrays him. She hushes him. 

“Don’t,” he protests. He sounds wounded. 

“No.” She finds a particularly heavy scar and puts her hand over it, almost covering it. “I love you.”

His breathing pulls again. He lifts his heavy head and looks her in the eyes. She puts her fingers over his lips.

“I love you,” she says.

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Rey doesn’t mind. She knows.

 

-

 

He is so ashamed of himself and so in love with her. Her tiny, responsive body and her unwavering mind. He wanted all of her. He wanted her everywhere. He had her. She was _his_. 

Every scar she touched prompted electricity in his veins. He desperately wanted her to stop but he did not want to move from where he was, warm against her skin. 

“I love them,” she says quietly.

He becomes paralyzed.

“They are a part of you. I love them.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes.” Her voice is certain. He doesn’t like it. 

“I failed. There is your proof,” he says stonily. 

“I love them.” She wriggles out from underneath him and stands up. He stares up at her from the floor and a smile makes its way onto his face, forgetting what he’d been so bitter about. 

A warmth fills his throat, a soft thrum in his lungs. He’s laughing. It’s unfamiliar. Rey scowls at him indignantly and he laughs harder, though his wound burns.

“I am disgusting and going to shower.”

He snorts. “I am just as ‘disgusting’.”

“Either way, I’m going.” She tilts her head back, closes her eyes, crosses her arms. She looks so _pouty_. More to himself than to her, he smiles again. 

He was not one for such salacious things. He was not a lover of the corporeal. He was certain of that. He did not like the weakness it brought in him, the way her sweat and her teeth and her breath made his insides keel. He did not like the way he was vulnerable. He did not like the way it made him lose all touch with all lucid thought. He did not like the way he could not read her when he sank into her. 

He loved her, only her. He didn’t love the feelings associated with such carnal activities, he didn’t love the pleasure it brought him. He only loved her, his tiny desert flower, his scavenger, his combatant. 


End file.
